


Erosion

by Tikini



Series: Four men and a Rock and Roll band [13]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, But they're still trying, Established Relationship, Everyone feels like shit, M/M, Mentions of Four and Fading rhythm, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Trauma, Violence, Vomiting, boys with issues, so many issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-12 00:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19218016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tikini/pseuds/Tikini
Summary: They were fraying at the edges.It had been two weeks since the interview with the magazine, and the disastrous night that had followed. Things were not great.____Or; John wants cuddles, Roger does not, Freddie is crumbling and Brian is doing all he can to keep his boys safe





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening lovelies!!
> 
> I've been in a great mood and have been quiet efficient with my writing so I'm already back! I decided to split this story into two parts, because I felt that would make more sense. Again, this is explicit because of the next chapter. I will add warnings with the next chapter. We're not done with the drama and angst unfortunately. I hope you don't grow tired of me and this angsty period, just hang on huns, we're soon getting back in the sunlight!
> 
> This chapter is heavy on the text, with dialogue only at the very end. I hope it's not too boring to read, but I needed much text to describe the situation. 
> 
> Let's dive back into the pit of angst which I've turned my porny series into... I hope you enjoy <3

They were fraying at the edges.

It had been two weeks since the interview with the magazine, and the disastrous night that had followed. Things were not great. 

At least they were better now then what they had been in the beginning. The day after the attack, both Roger and John had been absolute wrecks. 

John had been in pain, suffering from the bump he had gotten to the back of his head. But that was not the worst part. Their youngest boyfriend had felt terrible mentally. He’d been withdrawn and quiet. He had desperately needed physical contact and cuddling and nice words, but didn’t dare to ask for those things, his bad conscience and guilt not allowing for it. Those first couple of days John was but a shell of himself, fading into the background like a miserable ghost.

Roger, on the other hand, had been a menace to handle. Once he’d gotten over the shock and had gotten used to that John was actually alive and with them, Roger turned to anger. He’d been furious, hurt and ashamed, a combination that led him to acting unpredictable and almost hostile at times.

The first day Freddie had done the mistake of trying to talk to Roger about the intrusive things that had been done to him. Freddie had tried to comfort him, support him, but the moment the singer had uttered the word rape Roger had lost it. He had screamed at Freddie, that he hadn’t been raped, that Freddie didn’t understand fuck all. The episode had ended with Roger throwing a plate into the wall, shattering the china into several pieces. 

Later that afternoon, Freddie had managed to convince John to go with him to the police station in the area where it’d happened to report the attack. They hadn’t even told Roger that they were going, since Brian was sure he’d have another break down if he knew about it. And so Brian had stayed home with Roger, walking as if on egg shells while the blonde switched between watching tv and pacing the apartment, smoking like a chimney.

The visit to the police hadn’t led to anything. Freddie had been crying tears of frustration and fury when they’d come back. The singer joined Roger’s angry smoking session and it had only been by cornering a nervous John and asking, that Brian had gotten to know what had happened. It had been various things. The police officer hadn’t really been interested, only really paying attention to the part about the knives. He’d said that they should have reported it at once if the police was supposed to get involved. The part about the sexual harassment had just seemed to make the man uncomfortable, Freddie had apparently almost punched him in the face when the burly man had muttered that he had no interest in hearing about sex between men. 

Generally, they hadn’t gotten anything out of it, more than a lazily written report that probably wouldn’t be paid much attention. Which was so unfair and upsetting that Brian hadn’t known what to do with himself.

But, that had been the first day. Since then things had started to improve.

John had slowly gained a bit more confidence and started talking more and smiling and sometimes even laughing. Roger obviously didn’t blame John at all for anything, which he made sure to tell the bassist over and over again, and it seemed as if that was helping some with John’s guilt. However, John was still nervous about reaching out to them, and while he loved it when they hugged and kissed him he rarely instigated this himself. 

Meanwhile, Roger had calmed down. He went back to acting almost as usual, being loud and cheerful and energized. Still, it wasn’t really the same. His laughter was sometimes a bit hollow and the bright grin he offered still didn’t really reach his eyes. He was trying a bit too hard to show them that they didn’t need to worry about him, that he was fine and could take care of himself. 

They all felt the best when they were playing their music. When they were in the studio, working on songs, arguing about tempos and content, everything almost seemed back to normal. If Roger sometimes banged unnecessarily hard on his drums or if John sometimes flinched when they started arguing too loudly, no one said anything about that. The music, as always, was their haven. Their safe place where they could express themselves and be themselves without any judgement.

The problems started when they left the studio. When they got home, and nothing really fit into place. The dynamics were off, _they_ were off, and the stable, easy relationship they’d shared up til now, was nowhere to be found. 

To Brian, it felt a bit like how things had been when they’d just started sleeping together, before they’d agreed to be boyfriends. It was the same uncertainty, the same underlying stress and lack of belonging, that permeated the time they spent together. The last time they had been like this, Brian had been really upset, and didn’t really do anything to try and solve the situation. Freddie hadn’t either. John had tried, at least he’d talked to Brian about his feelings and what he wanted out of the arrangement, but the one who’d really pulled through to get them on the same page, was Roger.

Roger had always been somewhat the emotional core of the relationship. Not that he was more emotional than anyone else or anything like that, but he was usually the best at handling the others’ moods and feelings. For having such an aloof and cool image, the drummer was actually very attentive and caring. Everyone also talked to him when they were upset. Roger knew how to get Brian out of his dark moods better than anyone else, he was great at noticing when John felt sad or alone and he knew how to get Freddie to open up. Brian suspected it had to do with that Roger had been both his, Freddie’s and John’s first close friend within the band. It wasn’t like that anymore, now they were all as close as could be, or at least they usually were. But Roger still was the one who did the most of the comforting.

While Roger was the emotional support, he wasn’t a very stable one. He had his bitch fits and moods and tantrums, acted childish and selfish a lot of the time. And he wasn’t the only one. Freddie and Brian were childish, stubborn and selfish too. Which was why John was so integral to making them work, both the band and the relationship. John was calm, and very safe and stable. He knew how to calm a situation right down, knew who needed a hug and who needed a sharp word. He could read them fluently and without him they’d never get anything done. Without him they wouldn’t probably even had gotten together at all. In many ways, he was their leader behind the curtains.

Roger was warmth and comfort and John was safety and belonging. And now they weren’t.

They had fallen, and with them Brian and Freddie. They were lost and just couldn’t seem to find their way back to how things used to be. To how things _should_ be.

One of the main problems was intimacy. The four of them had always been very close and touchy, even before they got together. They thrived on bodily contact, even Brian and John who weren’t particularly physical outside of the four of them. Touch and closeness was one of the cornerstones of their relationship. 

Now one of them didn’t want to be touched at all. Roger still wasn’t comfortable with a lot of touching or hugging. He hadn’t kissed any of them since the night of the attack and he sometimes got stressed out if they were too close. In cuddle piles where he’d previously preened and prospered, he now felt trapped. He had problems sleeping in the bed with the rest of them, he always had to stay on the edge and some nights he went to the sofa instead. Roger’s sudden distance and coldness was throwing the rest of them of balance, poisoning the atmosphere so none of them felt completely right cuddling. It was awful, because Brian knew that Roger was trying, trying so hard, to get better at it. He hated to see the frustrated and disappointed look in Roger’s eyes every time he had to move away, because his body just didn’t listen to him. But it had only been two weeks, and he was already much more comfortable with them.

Especially with Brian. Roger always wanted to sleep next to him, sit next to him in the sofa and he was the only one Roger could hug while staying fully relaxed. The blonde was getting more physical with John and Freddie too, but with them he still had that tenseness. It was quite logical, objectively. Roger hated sharing problems and didn’t want to appear weak, the one he’d always depended the most on in that regard, was Brian. Which was why he was trusting Brian the most now, even if it probably wasn’t a conscious decision on his part.

However, it was hurting Freddie and John. Freddie tried to not let it show. He said he understood, he probably did understand. But still he always got upset and hurt when Roger would chose Brian over him again and again. John was just depressed about it. He seemed to think Roger didn’t want to touch him and he also seemed to feel like it was what he deserved. Every time Roger did touch him, be it something as small as holding his hand, John looked so shocked and happy that it broke Brian’s heart.

John, on the other hand, needed more intimacy now than ever before. He constantly wanted to be held and cuddled and hated being alone. And since he didn’t voice this, Freddie and Brian had to be at attention at all times, so someone always was there to comfort John, who’d otherwise have suffered and felt like shit in silence. John slept in between Freddie and Brian in the bed, and often awoke from terrible nightmares. Then he’d spend hours shaking and sobbing, clutching onto Freddie and Brian while Roger sat a bit off from their huddle but still tried to at least stroke John’s sweaty hair. 

As an extension of intimacy, sex was also completely out of the loop. Roger, of course, didn’t want to do anything sexual since he was still struggling with general affection. If the other three started to get heated with each other, Roger would politely excuse himself and leave. Which usually took the heat down real quick. Roger insisted on that he didn’t mind, that he didn’t want them to stop for his sake, and it was probably true. Still, as soon as Roger walked away John would clam up with guilt and not be in the mood anymore either.

Two weeks with no sex after a traumatic experience might not sound like a problem, but for them, at least some of them, it really was. Normally, when at home, they had sex often, several times a week. It wasn’t always kinky or extravagant affairs, but someone was always horny in the household. And for all of them, sex also worked as a great way of releasing stress and feeling better mentally. 

John could really have used some good sex, Brian kept thinking. The younger man usually found comfort and confidence in the act, something he direly needed now. But, if Roger didn’t want to have sex, then John thought that he had no right to either. 

Freddie had it even rougher. They’d known, since early in the relationship when they were just figuring out how to be together, that Freddie had quite a complex relationship with sex. It was very important to him and played an important part in how he handled his feelings and moods. Freddie could be over the moon with happiness and just want to play around and laugh hours away in the bedroom as they just explored and had fun, or Freddie could be an emotional wreck who needed to be pounded hard to find his flooring again.

Lately, the singer was indeed an emotional wreck. He’d had a lot of guilt since the interview, and also felt responsible for John and Roger getting into the mess after. Which of course was bollocks, as Brian kept telling him, but Freddie didn’t listen. He’d convinced himself that he had done things wrong, and generally felt about as terrible as Brian’s other two boyfriends. Freddie needed to be taken care of, needed attention and love and emotion and sex. Brian knew this. But he just couldn’t keep up. Couldn’t take care of Roger and John and Freddie at the same time. And Roger and John didn’t really have energy to focus on more than their own issues. Therefore, Freddie got neglected.

Him and Brian had had sex, once, since the attack. In the sofa while their younger boyfriends slept. It hadn’t been good. Freddie had been upset and frustrated and Brian just couldn’t seem to give Freddie what he needed. Not the fiery passion, nothing rough and emotional, not the hard punishing bites and slaps that the singer needed so badly. He could just barely fuck his beloved boyfriend, while trying to not think about how wrong everything felt.

All three of Brian’s boyfriends were hurting. They all needed him so much, in different ways, and he wasn’t enough to handle it all. He had to be there for Roger when he was the only one Roger actually opened up to. He had to look after John because otherwise the youngest would just fade back into that sad, frightened being in the corner, and Brian didn’t want that, not ever again. He had to support Freddie, who was so strong and supportive, who made John smile and Roger laugh and who fought so hard to try to get things and them back to normal. Who fought so hard that he himself was starting to crumble.

Brian had never been a particularly stable person himself when life turned ugly and complicated. He needed time to himself, time to be sad and angry and to think. He needed to lock himself into his old bedroom that he didn’t have anymore, for hours. He needed time with his guitar, he needed to write and empty his head of the awfulness that was just bottling up inside his head. He needed to get a good night’s sleep, not waking up from nightmares again and again, his own and his boyfriends’. He needed Roger to hold him like he’d used to and tell him that things would be just fine and that he was being silly and mopey.

Brian was drowning. 

Roger and John were definitely getting better, but Brian was afraid that he and Freddie wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer, without crashing themselves.

Two weeks had passed since the interview and the attack. That morning, the music magazine containing their interview, was slid into their mail box and dropped to the floor with a dull thud.

They all gathered at the table, pushing aside half eaten toasts and mugs of tea to make room for the magazine in the middle. The atmosphere was ridiculously tense, everyone eyeing the glossy cover with distrust. This was what had started this whole mess from the beginning.

“Should we burn it?” Freddie asked, dragging his stool over to sit next to Brian, closer to the magazine.

Roger huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. It is a quite well known rag, isn’t it? We should at least read what they say about us.”

“I agree,” John nodded, nervously fiddling somewhere behind Brian’s shoulder. “I know I acted like a dick, but I am actually proud that we got a reportage, and that you two got the interview.”

Brian glanced back and saw John smiling carefully at him and Freddie, expression honest. He promptly pulled the younger man down on his lap, ignoring John’s squeak as he turned back to the magazine. “Alright then, let’s have a look.”

He opened the magazine and started thumbing through the pages, looking for their reportage. Roger came up between him and Freddie, supporting himself with one hand on the singer’s shoulder as he leant down to look.

They all held their breaths as Brian searched the magazine until he found them. They had the centre spread, their name written in the magazine in a thick, eye catching font. There was a lot of text, both a quick summary about them and the gig they’d played and then his and Freddie’s interviews. Then there were also three photos, one of them playing under the gig, one of the band posing after and then a stunning solo picture of Roger, leaning back on his elbows, smiling with his eyes closed. 

Fuck. Brian took a deep breath as John tensed up in his lap. This must have been what the younger man had been talking about in the bar that night. Freddie looked nervously between the magazine and Roger, who was just kind of staring at the spread, expression unreadable. Then he snorted.

“Bloody hell. That looks ridiculous, it doesn’t fit in there at all.” 

Brian, John and Freddie gaped, all turning to look up at their surprisingly calm boyfriend. Brian had honestly expected Roger to at least break some more of their china.

“It’s so small too? Like if they’re going to do it, they should go for it, not pussyfoot around.” The drummer actually sounded amused, leaning down over Freddie to see better.

Freddie hummed in agreement, eyes glinting as Roger pressed up against him. “It is a very nice picture dear, they should have just made you the entire reportage, don’t you think?”

Warning sirens went off in Brian’s head and John was pale as a ghost. While Freddie and Roger had always used to banter like this, now it felt way too risky. 

But Roger surprised them again, chuckling and lightly smacking the back of Freddie’s head. “Flatterer. Let’s read what they say about us more than that I’m hot.”

Brian guessed they were lucky that Roger seemed to have a good day. In some ways though, it did feel somewhat like closure, to finally have the thing that had started it all in front of them like this. And it was a bit darkly ironic, that they'd suffered so, that they still suffered, from something as small and unimportant like this.

They all read the magazine together. It was actually a quite good reportage. Except from the random inclusion of Roger’s photo, the reportage was solid and felt professional. Queen was described as bold, entertaining and original and a lot of what he and Freddie had said was included in the final reportage. Besides they wrote about how talented musicians they all were, John and Roger also got some lines about their respective playing styles.

John’s eyes were full of tears when he finished and Roger looked surprised. Neither of them had expected that.

“They didn’t forget about me,” John muttered, rubbing at his eyes. “Fuck. I made a fucking mess out of nothing.”

Brian pulled him tighter against his chest and nuzzled his hair. He didn’t even know what to say on the subject anymore, having talked it over again and again with John the last week.

Roger ruffled John’s hair. “You didn’t. It’s still unfair. But it’s not as bad as it could have been.” He rolled back on his heels. “Actually, I think it was generally really good. I do think this is good for us.”

“And it’s just the beginning darlings!” Freddie cheered, shaking the magazine in excitement. “We should celebrate. Go out and have some drinks!”

Brian bit his lip. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to go out drinking when they were still so damaged. Loads of things that could go wrong flooded his brain and he winced. 

“I’d like that,” John said quietly, sounding cautiously hopeful. “It was long since we did something fun together.” He looked over his shoulder to Roger than Brian. “If everyone wants to of course.”

He hated to feel like a party pooper but Brian just had to cut in. “I’m not sure I think it’s such a good idea. With everything that happened… I mean, is it really smart to go out get drunk when we’re… like this?”

“We don’t have to get drunk,” John muttered, “we could just have a beer together.”

Freddie pouted. “I want to get drunk… God knows I need it.”

Brian sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration. He would prefer to have a beer and nice dinner at home over going out, but if John really wanted to… Still, Roger probably wouldn’t want to go. “I still don’t think we should do it.”

“Come on Bri,” Roger murmured. “We have to dare to go outside sometime. It’ll be alright.” He leant down to press a kiss to Brian’s head and Brian felt himself relaxing, some of the tension flowing out from him just like that. God, he was so tired.

Maybe it would be fine. Both Roger and John seemed up for it and in a good place mentally. Freddie seemed really passionate about the idea, beaming at the other three. Brian sighed. If the other three wanted to, who was Brian to get in the way. Maybe it would do them some good to go out like they used to.

“Fine.” He smiled tiredly and hugged John closer. “Let’s go out and have some beers tonight then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian's almost always right. 
> 
> While this story is still very involved with John's and Roger's trauma, I wanted to show that Fred and Bri aren't doing too great either. We'll further expand on that going further.
> 
> I have a question for you. I've been pondering a bit over if I should make a tumblr. I wouldn't have time to be there much, just shout out when I update things and maybe share headcanons and it would be great to talk more about this AU if you'd like, but it wouldn't be a blog where I'd take requests to write things. I'd love to, but I just don't have that kind of time. At least not if I want to continue my series. I'm not sure how I feel about it, I'm so awful at all things slightly technical too, but I wanted to check if there's any interest? Would you enjoy talking more about the series on tumblr or are you happy staying here?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I'm amazed you haven't grown tired of me yet. I'm on the 13th story xD I never imagined that I'd write so much when I started! Take care all my lovely, great readers


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie drinks, Brian can't recognize himself and John and Roger steps it up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies,
> 
> Back again, with the second chapter to this story. I'm really starting to want to go back to happier things, now I just feel melodramatic in everything I write xD I hope you still like it. This chapter takes inspiration from an idea I got from one of my lovely anon readers, Doris. It's not exactly what you wrote hun but I hope it's to your liking <3
> 
> Warnings: More fighting and hurt feelings and boys feeling like shit. Woop. Attempted rape. Wooop. Non consensual drug use. Woooop. And violence. Sorry.
> 
> Next chapter, we'll start to dig our way back to the surface. 
> 
> Enjoy <3

They’d barely gotten inside one of their neighbourhood’s many bars and Brian was already regretting agreeing to this with all his heart. 

Apparently, the calm, boring shack, as Freddie had described it, had some special event this evening, with cheap drinks, flashing lights and loads of excited, vibrant people.

As soon as they’d walked in, John had tensed up and clutched at Brian’s arm hard, looking like a deer in headlights. Then he’d spotted the dance floor, watching the people dancing and laughing there with something like longing in his eyes. The youngest man was torn between wanting to escape and wanting to taste the fun and excitement of a night out, fun and excitement they all were starved of.

Freddie had been ecstatic, the sheer purple fabric of his shirt dancing around him as he strode over to the bar to grab them some drinks, leaving the others to find a place to sit.

John kept close to Brian as they made their way after Roger who’d found a free table. Roger was handling the crowd surprisingly well, there was just a hint of tenseness to his shoulders as he pushed through the throngs of people. As always, multiple people stopped what they were doing when Roger walked past, gawking at the drummer, eyes wide with interest.

Brian winced and dragged John with him hurriedly to flank his boyfriend. If someone hit on Roger right now Brian had a feeling things would turn ugly, fast.

Luckily, nothing happened. Roger ignored the attention, not meeting the eyes of the people watching him, when he’d earlier probably have winked at them or exchanged a quick, flirty word.

Roger scooted into the booth and John climbed in after him, settling with his side against the blonde, eyes flitting around the bar warily. Brian wasn’t sure if the bassist was more looking out for himself or protecting Roger. Probably the latter. Roger seemed to think so, an amused quirk to his lips as he leaned into John’s side, gesturing for Brian to join them. 

Brian frowned, climbing on to sit on John’s other side, not wanting to trap Roger in the middle. “For the record, I still don’t think this is a good idea.” He muttered, pushing aside an empty drink glass to rest his arms on top of the table.

“I know,” Roger smiled. “But you have to admit,” he said, eyes canning over the crowd, “that’s it feels nice to get out of the apartment for awhile. Just staying cooped up in there is driving me crazy.”

_We’re doing it for you!_ Brian wanted to scream. Roger couldn’t even kiss his own boyfriends yet, but he thought it was fun to go out meet strangers? Brian didn’t get it at all. He gritted his teeth, annoyed with the whole thing.

“We need normalcy,” John said quietly, reaching to brush a couple of stray strands of hair out of Roger’s face, eyes glittering warmly when Roger let him. “We need to get to feel like real people again, like the people we used to be.”

Roger scoffed, poking John’s side. “We’re still the same. Just give us some time and we’ll be right as rain.”

Maybe Roger and John would be. Maybe. But they didn’t seem to have noticed that Brian and Freddie were struggling as well. Brian sighed. He shouldn’t feel irritated with his boyfriends when they were finally relaxing and opening up, almost cuddling together in the booth. He should be happy. 

Freddie appeared from the sea of people, four glasses of champagne expertly held in both hands. “Wow thanks for the help darlings.” He rolled his eyes, but his grin was bright as he put the glasses onto the table and then squeezed in next to Brian.

The singer was beautiful tonight. He’d been excited to finally go out again, and had a new gorgeous top, tight shorts and winged eyeliner framing his dark eyes. 

“A toast!” Freddie exclaimed loudly, lifting his glass and beaming when the others did too. “To us, to Queen! The most splendid, sexy, brilliant,” _traumatized_ , Brian very carefully didn’t say, “promising rock band in London!”

They all cheered, with different degrees of enthusiasm, and then brought the champagne flutes to their lips. It was good. Brian hadn’t had champagne in what felt like ages.

Freddie seemed to agree because he emptied his glass. “Ah, that what’s life’s made of…” He sighed happily and licked his lips. “Next up boys? More champagne, a shot, some beer?”

Brian who’d only had two mouthfuls of the alcohol and who definitely wasn’t going to get drunk tonight, frowned at his eager boyfriend. He was going to tell Freddie just what he thought of that plan but John spoke before him. 

“Maybe just one more glass of this, it’s delicious.” He grinned, taking another sip from his glass.

Roger looked unimpressed. “Really. You better not start acting like a dick again Deaks.”

“I won’t!” John sputtered, embarrassed. “I usually behave when I drink you know.”

“Perfect,” Freddie clapped his hands together and got up again. “One more champagne for darling Deaky. What about you Blondie? Bri?”

Roger shook his head no, and Brian was relieved to see that at least one of his boyfriends was planning on staying sober too. 

“No Fred, I think we should be careful with the drinks tonight.” Brian said, meeting Freddie’s eyes seriously. 

The singer scoffed. “Don’t be such a bore Brian. You don’t have to but I think we deserve to have some fun tonight. Personally, I could really use getting knackered and relaxing for a moment.” With that Freddie went back to the bar.

John squirmed slightly, sneaking a glance at Brian. “I’ll just have that second glass Bri, promise.”

Brian sighed, exhausted. He didn’t want to be a bore. He just didn’t want everyone running around drunk and mentally weak, getting into more trouble. Why couldn’t the others just listen? What were they even doing here?

“Let’s just let Freddie get drunk as he wants to, then we can go back home.” Roger was studying him carefully. “I know you don’t want to be here Bri. Sorry.”

John nodded, putting his warm hand on top of Brian’s. “You must be so tired love. You’ve done so much for us, both you and Fred,” he shared a quick smile with Roger. “We’re grateful.”

Great. Now his younger, recently assaulted boyfriends were worrying about him. 

“If you hadn’t been so good to us and so patient, we, well at least I, would never have been comfortable sitting drinking in a bar again, so soon.” Roger’s voice was soft and so quiet that Brian had to listen hard to hear him. “Thank you.”

He hadn’t understood how much he’d needed to hear that. How much it meant to him that Roger and John had noticed and appreciated it. That they weren’t blind to the challenges and struggles he and Freddie had to go through. Even if they of course weren’t even comparable to Roger’s and John’s nightmare. But just that they had seen, that they cared. That he wasn’t alone. It flooded Brian’s heart and body with so much warmth it was almost painful.

“Always,” he managed to squeeze out, before busying himself with his drink again, not wanting to get too emotional on his boyfriends.

John and Roger smiled knowingly at him, then started talking about the latest episode of a race show both of them enjoyed. Brian sat, trying to get his suddenly overflowing emotions under control and just watched the other two. It was like there had been a plug to his emotions, forcefully stuck there to give him a chance of keeping a level head and taking care of the others. Now, when Roger and John were more alike themselves than they’d been since the attack, the plug was starting to leak.

It had passed several minutes, John and Roger going through cars to Beatles and on to new bass line ideas, by the time Freddie returned. The singer brought two glasses of champagne, and his flushed demeanor and a bit hazy gaze tattled about the couple of shots he’d most likely helped himself to by the bar. He sat down and half draped himself over Brian’s side, also watching the two youngest while sipping on his new drink.

“Look at them,” his voice was thick with emotion. “They look and talk just like they used to.”

Brian agreed. If he hadn’t known about the last weeks, it would have been impossible to tell something had happened at all. John and Roger were happy and excited. John was gesturing boldly, voice stronger than in ages and he was grinning. Roger was completely relaxed, teasingly pushing at John now and then, laughing when the youngest said something extra ridiculous. 

It probably had been a good idea to go out, to take that step, even if it to Brian felt like an unnecessary risk.

“I hope they stay like this,” Freddie mumbled, body warm against Brian’s. “That it’s not just a temporary “peak”. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle that. Bri I…” He lowered his voice even more, making sure that John and Roger couldn’t hear him. “I’m at my limit. I just feel so bad all the time. And I feel awful talking about it, because this isn’t about me, and I shouldn’t make it about me. But still… I got so happy today when they reacted well to the article and then that they wanted to go out too. It’s just. I want it to stay like this.”

Brian nodded, wrapping an arm around Freddie’s waist. “I know love, I do too. And it seems that for once you were right and I was wrong, going out seems to have worked in our favour.” He rubbed his thumb gently over Freddie’s hip. “I don’t think this is temporary. We’re getting better all the time. I think they are coming back to us.”

“Thank god.” Freddie had emptied half of his glass. “I want the old us. I want to laugh together again, with all of us, really laugh. I want to be able to fight and have arguments again, now we’re all like mice, so careful it’s creepy. And I want to fuck. Bloody hell I need sex. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

John and Roger had quieted down, and Brian nervously noticed them looking at him and Freddie. “I don’t know Fred…” He started before John leant in, curious.

“What are you two whispering about?”

“Nothi…”

“Sex,” Freddie sighed, putting the empty glass back on the table. “I miss it. So much. Don’t you?”

John let out a nervous chuckle, hands fidgeting over his lap as Roger tensed marginally at his side. Bloody marvellous. Brian knew that Freddie was drunk and feeling open and vulnerable, but this really wasn’t either the time or place…

“Of course we do,” Roger rapped his fingers on the table. “I…” He started, before grimacing and going quiet again.

Freddie nodded, leaning half over Brian to look at John and Roger. “Can’t we try, when we get back home? We’re having such a good night and everything.”

Roger was starting to look a fair shade stressed out and Brian was so frustrated with all of them. “Fred you know that’s not going to work.”

“Why?” He asked honestly, looking around at them. “We all want to, except for you darling,” he added to Roger. “And I don’t want to pressure you into anything, never. But it’s not going to get better if you don’t try, maybe you could just watch us? Like Bri used to? Just try?”

Brian just couldn’t believe Freddie right now, he turned to the singer, mouth twisted into a snarl. “He’s bloody trying! All the time. How can you be so insensitive?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be, but we need to talk about these things!” Freddie raised his voice, eyes fiery behind the slight veil of the alcohol. “How can we move forward and escape this depressing pit without talking about it?”

“We don’t have to talk about it right bloody now!”

John was starting to hunch in on himself, bright grin gone. “Please don’t fight.”

“Yes. Don’t.” Roger said, voice sharp. “Especially not about me and my shit when I’m sitting right here. Yes I know Fred,” he continued when Freddie opened his mouth again. “We need to talk. And I know it’s not fair to you that my… hangups... are stopping the rest of you. But I’ve told you to just go ahead without me for now, haven’t I?”

“But we don’t want to do it without you,” John sounded small.

Roger swore, frustrated. “Why not? We don’t always fuck all four of us anyway.”

“This is different,” Freddie said softly, slumping back on his seat, wrapping his arms around himself. “I, we don’t want to lose you. And I’m afraid that you’ll never come back to us dear. Not completely. I’m terrified.”

They all sat quiet for awhile, the atmosphere heavy with Freddie’s words. Brian stubbornly stared at his hands, refusing to meet the others’ eyes. He worried about the same thing. Of course he did. But this timing was just terrible. He didn’t understand why Freddie felt the need to do this right now.

“I’ll come back,” Roger finally said. “I’m already here, we’re both here.” He nudged John. “And I promise it’ll get better. Hell, it’s only been two weeks. How about…” He started uncertainly, looking around at the three others. “that we try. You can have sex and I’ll be in the room. Would that be alright?”

Wonderful. Now they’d managed to pressure Roger into trying things he probably wasn’t comfortable with yet. That would probably turn out great. Damn, why were they so fucking dysfunctional?

“No, I.. I don’t want you to do it just because I said so.” Freddie sounded resigned. “God, I’m just making everything worse. I didn’t mean to pressure you darling. I’m sorry.”

Roger smiled shakily. “You’re not. I want to. I love you. I miss you. And I’m sorry that I’m… like this.” 

“Not your fault,” John murmured, carefully wrapping an arm over Roger’s shoulders. “Never.” He looked from the upset Roger and Freddie to Brian, who was tired and angry. “Maybe we’ve had enough for tonight. We should go home.”

Freddie shook his head, looking small and pathetic on the bench. “You go. I’ll be here.”

“Come on Freddie,” Roger said. “Please just come with us.”

The singer just shook his head a second time. “No. I… I need this. The drinks and the music and the people. I need to escape, just for a short moment. Otherwise I’m just going to end up hurting you more.”

“We have some drinks at home,” John tried, worried eyes boring into his boyfriend.

Freddie shrugged. “But not the music or people.”

“What people? Are these people so bloody great?” Brian had just about had enough of this. “So bloody great that you’d rather spend time with them than with us?”

Freddie finally looked up at him. He looked heartbroken. “Right now, yes. I’m sorry but I just can’t handle going back and have everything feel wrong again. I feel like I’m suffocating at home. Please understand. Just… just for one night. Let me pretend.”

He went there. He said what was so true but what should also never be said. Brian stared at Freddie, torn between wanting to cry and wanting to scream at him. He was lost for words.

John looked at Freddie, eyes sad and hurt. 

“Please dear, don’t look at me like that.” Freddie said, almost begging. “I’m not going anywhere. I just want to stay out a bit for tonight. I’ll be right back, I promise. It’s just… this is so hard for me. I don’t know how to do this. You know I’m not good at this whole relationship business. I’m sorry.”

Roger got to his feet, cold eyes piercing into Freddie. “I’m sorry. That what happened to us is bothering you. It must be awful for you. It must be so hard for you that _I_ was fucking humiliated and forced to choke on a stranger’s dick. It must be terrible for you that _John_ was almost murdered.” He tugged John to his feet as well. “We understand. Really. You have those drinks and go talk to some fun, new people. Good night.” He walked out from the booth and waved at John and Brian. “Come on, let’s go.”

John hesitated, looking at Freddie and saying a quiet, “Don’t stay out too late please,” before hurrying after Roger who was already walking away.

Brian stared after them and then back at Freddie. Freddie who was gripping the table, knuckles white. Freddie who looked one breath away from breaking down, staring after John and Roger, dark eyes wide and panicked. Freddie who’d dressed up tonight, who was so beautiful and who’d been so excited. 

The anger was gone. Only the exhausting, wearing pain of it all remained. The erosion breaking him and Freddie, bit by tiny bit.

“I hate myself.”

Brian didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to make Freddie feel better. Because he hated himself too. Because he felt the same. He also wanted a break from all this. To just get to press pause and pretend everything was good and as it should be, if only for a moment. 

No matter how high and mighty he tried to act, he wanted what Freddie wanted. He wanted the laughter and the cuddles, the arguments and the sex. He wanted John to tell him he was a good boy again. He wanted to pull Roger into his lap and kiss him breathless. He wanted to fuck Freddie hard, give him what he so sorely needed. 

Brian took a deep breath. He couldn’t lose it now. Not right now. Whatever he did, he had to stay upright, for the rest of them. He reached out to stroke his fingers over Freddie’s smooth cheek. “That’s too bad, because I love you. So much.” He whispered, gently pressing their foreheads together.

“You shouldn’t.” Freddie whispered back. “I ruin everything. Every time. It’s always me.”

Brian hummed. “No. We’re all idiots. We all ruin things. But then we put them back together. Like you do in relationships.”

“But Roger’s right. I don’t have any right, talking about feeling bad. After what they went through.”

“Roger’s angry. But he’s not right. We both have a right. Like we will never know how it felt to go through what they did, they won’t know how it felt to find them in the alley like that. How it felt to see them break. How much it costs to support them through this.” 

Freddie sniffled against his face, arms coming up to hold Brian. “You should go after them. So we don’t have to find them in another alley.”

“Come with me.” 

Sighing deeply, Freddie shook his head again. “Not yet. Let me just have my fake, shitty moment. I can get wasted and forget everything for an hour or two and let Roger cool off in the mean time. Everyone wins.” His breathing was hot against Brian’s skin. “Please darling. I really need it.”

Brian pulled back, searching Freddie’s face closely. “I don’t want us to split up,” he admitted, voice weak. “But if you really need it, I’ll let you.” He grabbed onto Freddie’s shoulders tightly. “But not for too long. I’ll worry myself gray if you don’t come home within an hour.”

“Worrywart,” Freddie smiled and leant in to kiss Brian lightly. “Off you go, I’ll be home soon.”

Nagging at Freddie very rarely leant to him doing what you wanted, so Brian decided to let him be for now. He knew he was being overprotective, before the incident none of them had had much problems leaving each other alone if they wanted it. They could always take care of themselves. At least that was what he’d used to believe.

He left Freddie at the booth and went after Roger and John, who’d already disappeared outside. That they’d gone without him immediately sent his heart into his throat, pulse pounding in his veins as he practically ran outside.

Luckily, they hadn’t gone far. And they weren’t in an alley. Roger and John stood just outside the bar, passerbys looking at them curiously, as they argued. 

“...still don’t think you should have been so harsh with him Rog.”

“I wasn’t! I just told him to have that bloody drink if that’s so bloody important! If he’d rather do that than be with us!”

“That’s not fair. He and Bri have practically served us 24/7 for two weeks. They deserve some time to themselves if they need it. Oh, hi Bri,” John turned to him as he came up to them.

Brian looked between John’s tired smile and Roger’s scowl and crossed arms. “Freddie’s really sorry. He’s not feeling very well mentally. But he said to go ahead home and promised he won’t stay out too late.”

“He just wants to party and get laid,” Roger muttered, irritatedly throwing his hair out of his face.

“Stop it.” Brian warned him, voice low. “You know sex is very important to him, to process and handle things. Don’t be mean. I’m tired of us fighting.”

Roger turned to him, looking surprised. Brian realized that this was the first time in two weeks that he’d talked back to Roger. 

The drummer quickly came over his surprise, and shrugged. “Nothing wrong with wanting to party and get laid. Don’t we all? Like I want that too. To just erase what happened. Of course I do. I’d love to go home and have all that amazing sex Freddie talked about.” He hadn’t bothered to lower his voice, and some girls standing next to them nervously moved away.

“I haven’t even fucking touched myself since.. you know. This is the longest I’ve ever gone without any kind of sexual release since I discovered it felt good to touch my dick at all.” The girls had started to walk away and John wearily looked around them. Roger didn’t seem to care at all. “So I get it. I do. I just wish he wouldn’t want to escape us like this. It makes me feel… really shitty actually. I’m such a fucked up, depressing mess that our boyfriend needs a break.”

Brian heard how Roger’s voice went throatier and throatier and sighed, taking a step forward to pull the younger man into his arms, resting his chin on top of his head. “That’s not it Rog. It’s not you that he” _and I_ “needs a break from. It’s the situation, the tension. He just doesn’t want to break down and accidentally hurt you or John.”

“Actually,” John hummed. “It might be us too. I mean, before this happened, we never clung to each other like this all the time. We all need our space and to go off on our own sometimes. It’s just natural.”

Indeed. Brian could really need some of that space too, to be honest. But if Freddie was having his golden moment now, Brian would have to wait.

“When you say it like that…” Roger chuckled wryly. “Yeah I guess. Ugh,” he groaned, moving away from Brian and putting his face in his hands. “Why does everything have to be so fucked up.”

Brian didn’t have any good answer to that. They just stood in silence for a moment, lost in their thoughts, until John sighed.

“I don’t think we should go home. I don’t want to leave Freddie for too long, and I don’t trust that he’ll get home soon by himself.”

Roger nodded. “Agreed… There’s the calm pub on the other side of the street. We can just go there and have a crappy soda or something, then go back and get him.”

While Brian would have preferred to just go home and crash into bed, he didn’t particularly like leaving Freddie either, even if they were only ten minutes walk from the apartment.

So Brian, Roger and John went to the pub on the other side of the street and had a crappy soda each. It all felt ironically miserable, but none of them felt like drinking more alcohol. Basically they just wanted to wait for a bit, before going back to fetch their boyfriend, who’d most likely be drunker and easier to convince to come home by then. Brian had a migraine coming on. He could feel it creeping in the back of his head, waiting for the right moment to explode. He reckoned he’d gotten maybe three to four hours of sleep each night for two weeks, and he was also, like Freddie, an emotionally exhausted wreck. It really was a relief that Roger and John both felt so much better today, the magazine seemed to have helped them to move on for some reason. 

They didn’t stay for very long, they were all impatient to gather Freddie and go back home to bed. So, they soon left the pub and returned to the busy bar. 

However, when they’d stepped inside and done a scan over the people inside, they soon found that they couldn’t find Freddie among them. They couldn’t see him on the dance floor, nor by the bar or the tables. And since they were already tense and worried, this lead to an instant sense of alarm and fright.

“Could he have gone back home already?” Roger asked, worried gaze searching the locale a second time.

John turned on his heel. “I’ll run check, if not I’ll come back.” He was out the door three seconds later.

Brian’s head flashed brightly with pain and he gasped, lifting a trembling hand to rub his temple. Not now. 

“Fucking hell, shit.” Roger shook his head. “I’ll go ask the bartender if he’s seen him, go check the floor again.”

Teeth clenched together tightly to not whimper at the pain, Brian nodded and went back through the sea of people. It was a good thing he was tall, he could see over most heads, looking desperately for Freddie’s shiny dark hair, the purple fabric of his shirt. He still couldn’t find him. 

Then, suddenly, as if smacked in the face, he remembered the bathrooms. Oh god, they were idiots. How could they have forgotten about the bathrooms?

Using his tall legs to their full capacity he hurried to the small nook in the corner of the bar where the toilets were located. First, he searched through the mens’ toilet and found no Fred. Then, he went into the ladies’, ignoring the panicked screams and swears aimed at him. Freddie wasn’t there either.

Head throbbing like white hot iron, Brian stumbled out and leant up against the wall outside. He was gasping, the music too loud, shaking him to his core. A sudden crash made him look up, cradling his head. Weird place for a song to have a crash in it, he absently thought.

Then, there was another crash. This time Brian understood that the sound wasn’t part of the song - because it came from behind him. From the door to the supply closet. Brian frowned.

Freddie… couldn’t be hiding in there, could he? Taking a shaky breath, forcing his headache back just a fraction, Brian went to the door and knocked hard on it.

“Fred?” He yelled, knocking again. “Freddie are you in there?”

There was no answer. Brian tried the handle, but the door was locked. Then he heard it.

“ _Bri_ …” A weak, muffled call of his name from within. Freddie was in there. 

Overcome with wild panic, Brian tugged harder at the door. “Fred!” He yelled again, not noticing the people around him staring and pointing at him. “Open the door!” Fuck, why didn’t Freddie open?

Done, with just about everything, Brian took a step back, threw his leg back and then kicked the door with all force he could muster. The door, just being a scrangly thing to a supply closet, came off its hinges and fell into the room with a crash.

Brian’s foot was burning, his head was roaring. He had found Freddie. 

His first thought was that it was bloody lucky that he hadn’t managed to hit his boyfriend with the door. And then there were no more thoughts for awhile.

Freddie was half bent over a sink, shorts down by his knees. A man was behind him, one hand frozen on Freddie’s ass and the other on his own belt. He was staring at Brian, shocked out of his activity.

Brian didn’t remember moving. He didn’t remember pulling the man away from Freddie by the throat and throwing him into the wall. He didn’t remember kicking and punching and yelling. None of it. 

Someone was calling his name. People were screaming. Everything hurt.

“Brian!” Roger’s scream stabbed through his head and he paused, breathed and looked down. He was straddling the stranger, hands on his throat. 

The man’s eyes were swollen shut with bruises, his nose was broken. He was unconscious. 

Brian lifted his hands, stared at them. They were not his hands. His hands didn’t look like that, swollen and bruised and covered in another’s blood.

“Brian!” Roger again.

Brian sluggishly turned around and saw Roger and Freddie. Freddie was barely conscious, he hang in Roger’s arms like a scarecrow, pale and wrong.

Standing up like in a trance Brian walked over to the other two. People were crowding in the gaping doorway, shadowed silhouettes against the flashing light outside. 

Roger was shaking Freddie, talking to him in a scared, desperate voice. “Fred, Freddie please. Can you hear me?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Brian didn’t recognize his own voice. It sounded far off and far too calm for the situation.

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Roger muttered, pulling Freddie’s pants back up. “Freddie?” He smacked the singer’s cheek lightly and finally Freddie managed to open his eyes.

“Bea.. ful..” He slurred, the brown of his eyes warm but hazy as he looked up at Roger. “Glad… ou. Here.” His hand came up, reaching for Roger’s cheek, before his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Fuck!” Roger yelled, shaking Freddie again before wrestling the singer back over the sink and sticking his fingers up his throat. “Call an ambulance!” He barked at Brian, fingers pushing until Freddie hulked and vomited down the sink and all over Roger’s hand. 

Brian nodded, getting up again and stumbling out of the room, people parting to let him through. He didn’t know what Roger was doing or why but he trusted him more than himself.

A large man appeared on his side, grabbing onto his arm. Brian barely heard what the bar employee said, something about violence and not accepting that kind of behaviour. Brian tried to get free, he didn’t have time for this.

Then John was suddenly there. Smart, lovely, safe John. The younger man talked to the employee, somehow convincing him to let Brian go and to call an ambulance. Brian didn’t know how his boyfriend had managed to understand the situation so quickly, but he was so grateful he could cry. 

Actually, he was already crying. He’d almost killed a man. He’d hurt more people during the last two weeks than in his entire life before that. His hands didn’t look like his own. His head wasn’t his own. Freddie had almost been raped. Freddie was unconscious and sick over a sink. They’d left him alone. Brian should have known better. Why couldn’t he keep anyone safe?

John tugged him back to that wretched room, where Roger had stopped forcing Freddie to empty his stomach and started to force some water into him instead. 

The employee John had talked down was shooing the nosy bar guests away. The man who’d been unconscious on the floor was nowhere to be seen.

“How’s he?” John asked, falling to his knees beside the other two, helping to hold Freddie up.

“Not good.” Roger said through gritted teeth. “But at least he’s breathing steadily. And he regains consciousness to and fro.” He stroked Freddie’s face gently when the older man groaned weakly. “I think the bastard slipped him something.”

Brian stared quietly at Freddie’s sweaty skin, at the frown between his eyebrows. He should never have left him alone.

Fortunately, the ambulance arrived shortly. They managed to carry Freddie through the crowded bar, the bar personnel now helping to keep people out of their way. Once outside, the ambulance drivers loaded Freddie inside the vehicle, John climbed in with him, the calmest of them, and then they were on their way, sirens blaring. 

Roger and Brian caught a cab and went after the ambulance, Roger stressing the poor driver to go faster all the time.

By the time they arrived at the hospital, Freddie had already been examined and they found John sitting outside the room, face in his hands.

“How…” Brian managed to gasp, out of breath after having run through the hospital.

“He’s alright.” John answered, looking up at them tiredly. “He was drugged. Something rohony or something.”

Roger swore shakily and sunk down in the chair next to John’s. “Rohypnol. Some sick fucks give it to people and then rape them.”

“But… he didn’t.. right?” Brian stared at John, trembling. “I stopped him?”

John smiled that small smile of his and gently urged Brian down to sit next to him. “You did. He didn’t have time to get his dick out.”

“Before you almost killed him.” Roger’s voice was dark with hate. “You should have. I’d have helped you, but Freddie needed us.” His eyes were fiery with rage. “How can it happen again? Why are so many people completely fucked in the head what the bloody hell is wrong with them?!”

His fists were clenched in his lap. Brian and John sat quiet, not knowing what to say.

“Why couldn’t he just have gone home with us, why does he always have to be so bloody difficult?” Roger continued, tears welling up and streaming down his cheeks. 

“We shouldn’t have left him.” John said, voice quiet. He looked despondent, but wrapped his arm around Roger to pull him close. Roger didn’t show any sign of hesitation as he curled up against John and cried angrily into his shoulder.

Brian sat on the hard, cold plastic chair and stared right in front of him. The migraine had mostly passed, but his head felt tender and somewhat bloated, like a balloon filled with too much air. “He’ll be alright?”

“Yeah,” John nodded. “He should be. He probably won’t even remember.”

That would be good fun telling him. Brian was barely aware of the tears rolling down his own cheeks. But still. “Thank god. I thought.. I was afraid that…” He choked out, and John warmly wrapped his other arm around him.

“It’s going to be alright.” John murmured into Brian’s hair. 

After everything that had been going down lately, Brian didn’t believe that for a second.

They spent the night at the hospital, cuddled together in those awful plastic chairs, while waiting for Freddie to wake up. Brian and Roger slept sporadically basically on top of John. A nice nurse showed up early in the morning and offered to help Brian clean up his hands. John went to get them and Freddie something to eat and some coffee. Roger stayed outside of Freddie’s room. 

When Brian returned, his fists cleaned and bandaged, the door to Freddie’s room was open. He could hear Roger’s and Freddie’s voices from inside. Dizzy with relief, he stumbled forward, about to walk in, when he heard what they were saying and stopped in his tracks.

“I’m sorry so sorry please Rog you have to believe me, I didn’t mean to!” Freddie’s voice was tinged with hysteria.

“Fred, I know.” Roger’s voice was quieter, calmer. “He slipped it into your drink, you couldn’t have known. It dissolves at once.” The blonde paused. “It’s me who should say I’m sorry. We left you, when you felt bad. And I know you wanted to be left alone but sometimes we don’t know what’s best for us. We shouldn’t have listened to you. We should have brought you back with us. Freddie. I hate it when you get hurt.”

Brian guessed John hadn’t arrived yet either. Roger had probably chosen to tell Freddie now, when it was only him. 

Freddie let out a cold snort. “I deserved it though. Actually, I deserve worse. I don’t remember it. Not a thing. And he didn’t have the time to do anything to me, not really. While you were… that should have happened to me. Not you. I just go around and flirt and play with people. Of course it’ll end up getting me hurt. Still, I’m too stupid to stop.”

“We’re not having a bloody rape off Freddie,” Roger sounded exasperated now. “This isn’t about me at all. This is about you. No one deserves that kind of thing to happen to them, least of all you. I’m so sorry for what I said before we left. I just wanted you to be with us. Even if we’re broken and boring and scared. Because we need you. So much. Please Freddie, don’t say things like these about yourself.”

John appeared at the other end of the corridor and gave Brian a funny look. Brian straightened out from his crouched position by the door and wiped the tears from his face. It was time to go in. He didn’t want to be already weeping, that would let Freddie and Roger know that he’d listened in on them.

He waited for John to reach him before they both went in. Freddie was sitting up in the hospital bed, looking small and silly with the ugly paper gown, his hair messy and the eyeliner smudged around his eyes. Brian probably hadn’t seen a more beautiful sight ever.

“Hi Fred,” His voice came out rough and trembly. 

The singer smiled at him widely through his tears, showing of his teeth. “Hi darlings. I heard you’re my hero.” He batted his eyelashes and put a hand on his chest.

“Hardly.” Brian muttered, shifting awkwardly on his feet.

John scoffed and walked past him to put the bag with food and drinks on the table, then sat down on the side of Freddie’s bed. “You are Bri. And you too Fred.” He took his older boyfriend’s hand in his, squeezing gently. “You are the best.”

Roger, who was sitting on Freddie’s other side, stroking his hair gently, poked John. “Hey, I want to be a hero too.”

“Of course you are dear,” Freddie yawned, lids drooping. “Gosh, I’m so tired. Guess that happens when a dick drugs you.” He continued, voice breezy. “Maybe I should stop wearing so revealing clothes, as you’ve told me to.” 

That Freddie was talking about this so casually, as if he didn’t care it had happened, broke Brian’s heart. He shook his head and sat down on the bed too.

“I don’t think the clothes are the issue.” Roger said. “You should be able to dance around in a bloody loin cloth if you want to, and flirt all you want. Stop treating this like a joke Freddie.”

Freddie sighed tiredly and let his eyes fall shut. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to treat it really. I can’t remember a thing after that drink. It’s hard to be upset about something when I can’t recall it.” 

“Well, I’m really upset.” John said, gripping Freddie’s hand tighter. “We were afraid we’d lost you. Or that you’d been seriously hurt. It’s enough now. We’ve had enough shit. I don’t want more of this.” He took a deep breath, forced his emotions under control. “But, we can talk more later, I can see you’re tired.” He grabbed the bag. “I have coffee and cheap sandwiches.”

“Coffee.” Freddie moaned. “I could kiss you. Actually, you should kiss me. Please?” He made big, teary eyes at John, who smiled fondly and captured his lips in a sweet kiss.

“Sandwich please.” Roger said sleepily, scooting down to lean his head on Freddie’s shoulder.

Brian ended up with one bland coffee and one dry sandwich balanced in each hand, sitting against the footrest of Freddie’s bed and watching his three harassed, assaulted boyfriends cuddle together while devouring the hospital cafeteria food. 

How in the world was he supposed to keep these wild, chaotic, beautiful beings safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Rohypnol was around in the 70s, but I don't think it was really used like a date rape drug then. However, we'll just go with it. It's not like this is very realistic all the time anyway. Rohypnol or roofies dissolves into liquid quickly, so it's important to stay on your guard when you're out, and to not leave your glass unattended. Roofies are used a lot. Disturbingly. 
> 
> Generally, if someone's had something bad, food, drinks or a drug taken in orally, it's often a good idea to get them to throw up as much as possible (at least if the intake was recent). 
> 
> I have created a tumblr, since many of you seemed up for that idea, and I think it might be fun to chat more there! You leave so many nice comments and seem like such intelligent people, so if you want to come say hello or wonder something about the fic, my tumblr name is tikiniki. The blog is called the same as this series. It's not a personal blog, but a side-blog to the series (and to perhaps other things I might want to write hrrm). Anyway! I'll try this tumblr thing out again, so I hope I'll see some of you there! Things I write there will also be posted on AO3 later, I'll make a headcanon "fic" basically. If people are interested of course xD 
> 
> But as I keep nagging about, I'm quite busy and won't have that much time, so you'll have to forgive me if I'll take a long time to answer. Also, I'm going on a mini vacation soon, so I might not be very active in the beginning.
> 
> We're almost done with the angst. Rog's had enough in the next story (his pov), and so have the others.
> 
> Take care my precious readers. Avoid dark alleys and look after your drink glasses. I love you all - Have a great midsummer <3


End file.
